Rebuilding Rob

I’m starting to run out of prompts to use – both from WordPress and from webpage that I’ve been using . Props to Google Gemini for suggesting today’s prompt that builds off some things I’ve been reading about since January 1

Beyond the big life decisions, how does the “100% Policy” manifest in the small, everyday choices of 2026?

I’ve spent a lot of time talking about “Rebuilding,” but lately, the blueprints have changed. I’m no longer interested in just putting walls back up; I’m interested in the quality of the materials. I’ve realized that my “100% Policy”—the refusal to settle for anything less than exactly what I want—isn’t just for big life milestones. It’s a filter I’ve started applying to my Monday mornings, my living room, and the way I spend my silence. If it isn’t a “hell yes,” it’s a “no,” and I’m finally learning that “no” is the most useful tool in my kit.

The Sovereignty of a Definitive Yes or No

I have a couple of recent examples of putting my foot down and demanding what I wanted.

The first deals with a tool kit on Kid One’s Amazon wish list. When I was in college, my father would buy me tools for birthdays and Christmases so that I could build my own collection. I wanted to do the same for my son. When I saw the kit had been purchased by his mother (X1) already, the “less assertive” Rob probably would’ve taken his lumps and been frustrated in silence.

Instead, I explained the situation to her—the history with my dad and why this mattered to me. She was happy to return her set so I could buy the gift. I really struggled with even telling her; I was texting my friends Phred and Veronica about how frustrated I was before I spoke up.

In another lifetime, I would’ve just “sucked it up.” This time, I put my foot down.

It occurred to me that this hesitation goes back to my childhood. Growing up, I don’t know that my parents ever gave me a definitive yes or no. Usually, “yes” was “I don’t care” and “no” was “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” My reluctance to be firm is rooted deep, and I’m finally learning what it feels like to have a seat at the table of my own life.

The Physical Space: My Tree, My Terms

I am tired of “starting over“ with material possessions. I’m tired of ending up with half of what I had before. And more than anything, I never want to feel like a “guest” in a partner’s home ever again. If there is a “future Mrs. Rob,” we are starting on neutral ground that belongs to us.

But for right now, I have my Christmas tree.

I bought this tree half-off at a Walmart on December 26th years ago while traveling to see Kid One. I eventually added a star, garland, and a skirt. One year, I set it up in a Charleston Airbnb. It became “Our Tree”—representative of me, Kid One, and Kid Two. The ornaments are a chaotic mix of baseball, Pepsi, superheroes, and video games.

It’s an inexpensive tree, but it is ours. It is one thing no one can take from me. Certainly no “future Ex-Mrs. Rob.”

High Standards: Refusing the Breadcrumbs

Refusing to settle for anything less than 100% isn’t about having unrealistic expectations. It’s about not setting my expectations too low anymore.

The truth is, I’ve always known what I wanted. I was just unwilling or unable to express it. I was a people-pleaser, which is just another way of saying I was a “settler.” I was willing to take whatever breadcrumbs people left for me—in work, in relationships, or even going back to being the last kid picked in gym class.

Being “honored just to be nominated” is no longer enough.

I have people in my orbit right now on the relationship front, but I haven’t pursued them long-term because they don’t fulfill my needs. If I had been this honest with myself in my previous long-term relationships, I might not be in this situation now—but I also wouldn’t have the clarity I have today.

The common thread here—the reason a toolbox, a Christmas tree, and my dating life are all on the same page—is that I’m finally learning to value my own peace. Whether it’s reclaiming a fatherhood tradition or keeping my home exactly how I want it, I’m done being a “settler.” It’s taken 13 years and 850 days of writing to realize that when I settle for breadcrumbs, I’m the one who ends up hungry. Moving forward, if it isn’t 100% right for me and my boys, I’m perfectly content to just hold the rope and wait.

Thanks for stopping by Rebuilding Rob. Be sure to like 👍, comment, and subscribe below. It’s greatly appreciated! Also, feel free to follow me on social media and check out my recent posts!

• The Muscle of Empathy
• Where Do We Go From Here? Five Years Since January 6.
• Bugs, Boundaries, and the Art of Not Being Invisible
• No More Breadcrumbs
• The Audacity of Staying Put (Or: 13 Years in the Middle)

AI art created with Google Gemini

The article “No More Breadcrumbs” first appeared on Rebuilding Rob.